Second Guessing
by Ovo
Summary: Following the Unicorn's trail, Molly and Schmendrick fall into a nightmare.


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Second Guessing

Spring bloomed along the riverbank, invisible in the dark of night but permeating to the heart. In an hour's time, the sky would turn gray, and the sunrise would bring color to the world. The dawn would entrust unto slumber night's creatures, and rouse those that belonged to the day's light.

A smoldering campfire, reduced to glowing coals, cast precious little light over those visitors that chose to abide the rule of the sun. Resting amidst the young grass, one slept while the other lie awake, her mind wandering far through the realms that only the mind could pass through.

The woman's childhood dreams were but a shadow of this. The Molly Grue she once was never could have imagined… even being back under the stars, as she had been for years while their beauty faded from her eyes, was something to be appreciated now. The once simple brigand's wench had changed to something more elegant, and glad of it. She was happy.

Still, she smiled wistfully. Across the meager fireplace, illuminated by the simple play of light and shadow, Schmendrick pouted in his sleep. He had changed, too, now confident in his power and mortal at last… although that peculiar youthfulness lingered, and he was still tainted by his years beyond the reach of Time.

Molly frequently wondered at that. He never spoke his true age, but she never bothered asking. But what it must have been like; what he must have seen!

But like her past, his was behind. In their time together, he had smiled, he had laughed… and he had cried. But he was contented, in his way, and that was what counted.

Slowly, his eyes opened; dark blended with green to form fright, blinked away as easily as the magician remembered where he was. And that was what Molly worried over… his recent nightmares, another of those that he never spoke of and she never asked. Although she tried once since they began, and he spoke earnestly how he never remembered his dreams. But she knew better, and so worried anyhow.

Schmendrick freed himself from his blanket to stand. Unobtrusive as he tried to be, the cloth ruffled to the ground, even as his cloak pattered as he summoned it to him. Drowsy, he stumbled, grim and determined, compelled to stand still only to watch the sky grow lighter and the sun peek over the rolling landscape.

What he never told Molly haunted him. Innocence, immortality… glory, hope, and, ultimately, despair…The specters that approached in forms familiar… the unicorn or the girl… or an amalgamation of the two, yet beautiful in her own right. Such dreams, he mused, did not bode well.

They followed the trail of the unicorn. It had been two years, and he worried that she had indeed become a wanderer, like Molly and himself. But Molly knew _her_ nature better than he, and at his worries insisted that the unicorn was doing it because the three of them enjoyed the game. Not like it was meant to be played, perhaps, but this unicorn had become accustomed to the new and the unknown and was willing to adapt.

So they pursued her – not as it was done, perhaps, but in a shadow of the old ways. The magician was unsure whether he enjoyed the chase or not. He still felt jealous, and guilt for such… Molly still had to say to her, and he… well, he had his own reasons, more than his own one question, even as part of him demanded he find a way to get it over with.

And yet… he would play the game for her. He would play for the both of them.

As the birds twittered, the first light of the morning sun broke over the horizon. At length, Schmendrick heard his traveling companion roaming about the campsite.

An eternity later, or mere moments, and Molly was at his side. He didn't move, didn't want to. But she was there all the same.

"Schmendrick, you're so pale," she spoke softly, wondering, as though he hadn't noticed. Regardless, she brushed the tears from his face, never once asking what was wrong.

**---**

They traveled in silence. Molly's chestnut mare carried them both faithfully, the autumn cat curled steadfast in the woman's lap. Schmendrick was lost in thought, watching the moving trees yet nearly dreaming as they rode.

Past his stupor, the magician saw white move clumsily through the bushes. Surprised, he was down and after it in moments, with Molly's worried voice calling after him. What he saw made him stop and stare.

And laugh. The pale silken banner fluttered in the breeze, caught on the brambles. He untangled it carefully, whispered to it, and sent it home. It was then, in relief of his worry, when he knew that he needed to see her, to ease his heart's ache if for no other reason.

And the guilty part of him knew how selfish that desire was.

**---**

The late afternoon dragged on, brushing against twilight to evening in time. The nearing village was a welcome sight, bright and jubilant as though summer had already come.

Weary vagabonds were invited to the celebration, seemingly guests of honor. Aside from the magician and his companion, there were a handful of others – come from near or far. Banners alike to the one Schmendrick had freed in the forest flew high and proud for such a modest town.

Asked what was going on, the villagers laughed merrily, one volunteering a cheer to, "A successful hunt!" And his fellows joined in, the voices becoming an indistinct roar. Wine had showered the ground, browning grass where it had fallen.

The giddiness was catching. Schmendrick, wearied, merely smiled, following Molly Grue as she happily joined the crowds in the town square. The woman laughed at an offer to purchase the cat in her arms, shaking her head and hugging him closer. The wizard, attention wandering idly, found himself caught in the stare of an old woman. She grinned, and he knew what she was, and was reminded of another witch, another world away.

Unsettled, he was glad for the anxious commotion that suddenly swept the square.

A young maiden had swooned, and many villagers rushed to her side. Molly and Schmendrick had both noticed, once or again, how she appeared to be the guest of honor. They moved with the mass, and, while Molly looked on, worriedly hugging the autumn cat to her chest, the wizard saw something neither of them had seen.

Or thought he had. For a moment, he would have sworn the girl was covered in blood. But no, she writhed as though burned, but there was no sign of injury upon her.

The witch was brought forth, cackling mad.

From the periphery of his vision, Schmendrick saw something milky white as the crowd moved aside. At first, he imagined it to be one of the banners floating proud, but no… he _knew_ what it was, and ice gripped his heart.

There was no time for denial. He spoke angry words of power, sending his cloak to retrieve it…

…and to hide it, lest Molly turn suddenly. Even as her confused eyes were on him, as shouted for her to run. The village turned dark – hospitality to vice, most blaming the magician as the demon creating the girl's illness, and he imagining the old woman cursing.

Not that it mattered. He ran, muttering more adamant words without breath. He felt it respond to his call, once again… this time intentional and with a purpose.

Molly was already at the edge of town, waiting for him. Her mare stood by, nervous. The woman clung to the cat, even as the cat clung to the woman, eyes glowing bright, always just clever enough to make the magician suspicious whenever he thought of it.

But this was no time for thinking. He reached them just as he saw it emerging from the darkness. Fearful of his own work, Schmendrick wrapped his arms protectively around Molly; she was the only thing in the world that mattered.

The gray passed them by. He heard the cries of terror. The horse whinnied in alarm, and might have run if not for inborn loyalty of its breed. Above it all, Molly whimpered, and he immediately moved to block the view from her, never loosening his embrace and whispering hoarsely, "Don't look… don't…"

The night dragged on, an ominous silence soon replacing sound.

As the dawn broke, the black cloak fell heavily at their feet.

**---**

"No! Not another step until you tell me what that was all about!"

There were tears in her eyes, as if he didn't feel terrible enough.

A forest again. The very one they passed the day prior. Schmendrick kept the cloak pressed to his chest, much as Molly held her cat with the crooked ear. The cloak, however, didn't stare as the cat did – accusatory, spiteful, through green-gold eyes.

_What does a cat know?_ He scoffed, ignoring the part of him that knew better. Instead, he turned towards the deep of the wood, following the sparse wine trail and dead grass. Despite her vow, Molly Grue followed at a distance. Concerned, she watched the magician as he paused at a patch of autumn never cleared away by the touch of spring. His shoulders slumped, a defeated man.

She shoed away a fly, and adjusted the cat, who buried his face in her shoulder.

"Don't," Schmendrick warned, a choked sob. She stepped forth despite him, but turned away.

With supreme care, the wizard returned the bloodied hide to the creature it belonged to, without daring a touch.

**---**

The sun neared the horizon. In a glade dappled by the waning light, a full day's travel away, they stood in silence. Molly clutched the cat, comforted in a small way, while Schmendrick stood alone.

It was like that. Women and witches had condolences with their familiars and cats and unicorns, while men and magicians and heroes stood alone. And if that was how it had to be, then that was how it had to be.

Perhaps it was, but not always.

Molly Grue set the cat down, letting it to stray – as it often did when she wouldn't hold it – to the company of the horse.

She stepped around Schmendrick, facing him… facing his grief along with her own. It nearly broke her heart.

"Do you truly think it was her?" the woman asked, uncertain save hope.

His breath hitched, and he stared down at her… Between them, the line blurred. An illusion, Molly realized – he never could keep his face that clear. It shattered into raindrops as she disbelieved, and as the magician shook his head slightly, "I didn't… I couldn't…" he said, apologetic, "I thought that you would know."

"Oh, no," Molly answered, "I couldn't bear to look."

"I'm sorry. I hope… I'm sure we shall know, soon enough… we'll know… Oh, Molly, I'm sorry."

Looking away, to the trees, he barely flinched – yet he did – as she took his hand in hers, "Whatever for?"

"I… Well, _you_ know – you must have seen it better than I," he insisted, earning a slow shake of her head as she mouthed the word _no_. He was dubious, but she was earnest, so he explained anyway, "If I could have kept her for myself… I _would_ have kept her in a cage, Molly, if only my heart could have suffered it."

A moment of silence.

"You know I was jealous. I wanted…." he left off, unable to explain, "I never knew what I wanted. And I wanted something else more; I made my choice, but I wish…"

"Oh, my dear," the woman sighed, correcting herself "my stupid, _foolish_ magician…"

What could she say? They would know, _soon enough_, whether their dread would be realized. But for now, all that they had for sure was each other.

**_The End_**

* * *

**Working Title**: _Second Guessing_

**Inspiration**: A dream, plotbunnied.

**Noteworthy**: I wrote most of this while trying to pay attention to lectures, but managed something out of it. I'd only recently read the book. (The movie is fun, the book is dead _awesome_).

**Disambiguation**: Apparently, Unicorn's blood is poisonous.  
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Derivative work of material © Peter S. Beagle. Reformatted to abide by 'site standards. None of the original text has been modified, 'cept in case of typo._


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